Education
by AlienZombies
Summary: Jim has always had a talent for getting an emotional response out of Spock. It's fun. SPIRK-y. Can be read as non-Spirk-y.


**Note**: I'm not sure if this is a little AU-y or not... since I didn't pay a hell of a lot of attention describing Jim and Spock's earlier years in the academy. So there's that.

Also, I'm not positive if this will become multi-chaptered or not. Give me a holler if you think it should be. Any and all comments are wanted and loved forever!

Without futher ado...

--

**Education**

"Hey there," Jim said softly, casually, as he slipped into the seat across from the stranger. He thrust his bag and materials onto the desk helter-skelter, letting things roll here and there, and then set about rearranging everything to his liking. He glanced up once, and smiled at the curious look on his neighbor's face. "I'm Jim Kirk. What's your name?"

He only received a cold, searching stare. The boy across the desk cocked his head just slightly as Jim spoke, as if listening for some distant, obnoxious noise and trying to sort out what it was.

Not the least bit put off, Jim ventured on. "I guess I'm going to be your lab partner, huh?"

The boy inclined his head, which Jim took to be a nod. He was interesting, foreign-looking almost. Feminine face, with a slender figure and long, spider-like hands. His skin was pale and flawless, punctuated by two dark pits for eyes. Eyes that betrayed nothing. His hair was hidden underneath a worn, dirty-looking blue beanie. All in all, he looked like an average student, if not for the delicate grace about him, nearly effeminate, as he gently removed the items from his bag one at a time and lined them up on the desk before him.

"So," said Jim, looking down at his own hands… tanned, callused, with dirty nails which had been chewed and picked down to tattered nubs. He suddenly felt awkward, very country. "Where are you from?"

His partner still didn't say anything. He quirked an eyebrow before he set about arranging the ingredients they needed, not asking for permission as he reached over and took parts of Jim's collection. When he was finished, he looked around and said in a quiet, matter-of-fact manner, "We are lacking the nitrogen solution."

Jim glanced down at his assigned list and shrugged. "I don't have it."

"I was not assigned to it, therefore you were responsible for it."

Jim pursed his lips, really no longer in the mood for this. "We'll just borrow some for today. I bet you anything Bill brought some."

Something changed just vaguely in the strange boy's expression. It was so subtle Jim nearly missed it. Just the slightest thinning of his lower lip, as if he was biting it from the inside… and Jim realized that the boy was irritated with him. For some reason, he found this unerringly entertaining, and decided that, now that he had found the anthill, that he was going to poke it with a stick. If this kid was going to go about being so rude and stoic, Jim thought, he deserved to get a bit riled up. Besides, getting a rise out of the guy would be interesting.

At the sight of the sly grin forming on Jim's face, his partner's eyes tightened slightly and he said in his quiet, stepped voice, "Are you going to retrieve the solution or are you not?"

Everyone around them was already getting started. A beaker to their left was fizzing a little, sending up smoke, which it wasn't supposed to do.

"Sure," Jim said casually, standing up, and letting the oversized sleeve of his winter coat brush a graduated cylinder on the corner of the desk, sending it crashing to the floor. His partner started a little and pulled a faintly pained expression. Everyone turned to stare, wondering who had broken lab equipment, and Jim made a show of being bashful.

"Sorry, sorry, my bad… My partner distracted me." He pointed at the stranger, and a few people glanced at him curiously. Other than the faint darkening of his nose, he showed no sign that this had any effect on him. Jim turned back to his partner and raised his eyebrows expectantly, planting his hands back on the table. "Want me to get another one of those, too?"

With a faint sigh, the pale boy said, "That would be the wise thing to do."

Jim went about cleaning up his mess and getting the necessary ingredients. He dragged his feet and made the process take up an excessive seven minutes. By the time he got back, the agitation was very clear on his partner's face. He couldn't help but break a self-satisfied grin, setting everything on the table firmly. "There you are."

"Thank you," said his partner stiffly, and launched immediately into setting up the procedure.

"Thank you, _Jim_," Jim corrected, which earned him an icy glance. However, his partner seemed to be far too involved in his studies to give him any more acknowledgement than that. From the way he was moving, hunched slightly over the desk, it seemed that he didn't plan on inviting his lab partner to assist him in any way.

Without asking, Jim went about trying to help his partner, deliberately staying a step or two behind him and moving slowly, which forced his partner to sometimes stop altogether. When this happened, he would tap one finger on the desk impatiently and give Jim an almost dangerous look.

"Still didn't catch your name," Jim said in a conversational voice as he intentionally fumbled with a nearby test tube. He risked a glimpse at his partner's face, and flashed a small grin.

His tone betrayed his exasperation as he answered, "Spock."

"Sounds foreign."

Another quirk of an eyebrow, which was probably an indication that this kid was genuinely getting pissed. "It is."

"You an alien?"

Those black eyes widened slightly but Spock said nothing.

Jim rushed to make amends. "I mean, I was just wondering, what 'cause of your skin, and everything."

An Andorian girl to his right turned and watched them both for a minute before turning back to her work and muttering.

Somehow, Spock's eyebrows went higher. He still refrained from commenting, instead taking the test tube from Jim and pouring it himself.

"It's just," Jim continued stupidly, "you know… You're kind of pale. I mean, it's not bad or anything, just different. Actually kind of nice. But you've got green in it. And since there's not much else, you look kind of sick. But you ain't sick." He paused. "Do you have a tail, or something? Anything? Or are you not even?"

"I don't see the relevance of this conversation to our school work," said Spock coolly, though a muscle in his jaw ticked a little.

Jim stuck his hand back into the complicated chemical mess and grasped the same beaker Spock was going for. Spock pulled his hand back in time and fixed Jim with the first clearly angry look all day. His brows pitched downwards and his mouth thinned out. His cheeks took on a deeper green tint.

"Why must you occupy yourself with being such a pest?" he snapped.

Instead of answering, Jim arched up in his chair, leaned across the table, and plucked the beanie clean off of Spock's head.

Short black hair immediately puffed out and then fell straight around his face. A pair of pointy ears stuck out from under this. Jim grinned with amusement and fascination. "Hey, neat! Romulan?"

"Vulcan," Spock hissed. He made a weak move for his beanie, but Jim yanked it out of his reach. He kicked the table on accident as he did this, causing the complex set on the table to rattle dangerously.

There were eyes fixed on them from all around the room, curious to see if they'd break anything else. Spock blushed, and Jim felt a pang down in the pit of him, a little bit of affection, and he found himself laughing at his partner's embarrassment. He was getting a rise out of a _Vulcan_.

"You've got great ears," said Jim in a flirtatious tone, flapping the beanie tauntingly. "Why do you cover them up?"

"Return my hat to me," Spock growled.

"Say the magic word!"

His partner's eyebrows shot up. He clearly had no idea what Jim was talking about.

"It's _Please_," Jim said slowly, to set an example. "Now your turn."

Spock took a deep breath, as if prepping himself, and then said, punctuating each word, "Return – my – hat – to – me."

"Please."

Black eyes squinted. Jim laughed.

People were watching them, now. If the Professor had been there, he would have broken them up by now. But he was out for some reason, so Jim was free to cause a little havoc.

He let his guard down for a second, and Spock snatched at the hat. Jim tipped back in his seat to avoid the attack, upended himself and went sprawling on the floor. His chair slid out from under him and struck the table, knocking over several chemicals, which shattered on the floor and desk, running together, spilling onto Spock's lap. Immediately a thick steam started rising, metallic-tasting and acidic. Somebody laughed. There were a few playful "ooooh"s and "you did it now"s.

Spock sat motionless in his seat, his jaw tightly clenched. His hands were fisted on the table, and for a moment Jim failed to understand why… when he realized that the acid was burning through Spock's knuckles, and probably through the place where it had spilled onto his lap.

"SPOCK!" he shouted ludicrously, leaping to his feet. "QUICKLY! _TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS_!"

Spock shot him the most poisonous look on the planet and did not move.

"Somebody get some water!" Jim barked, and a timid-looking girl shuffled towards the wash station. The steam was starting to sting his eyes a little bit, and his nostrils, and the roof of his mouth. His vision blurred up with reflexive tears and he struggled to blink them away. He started for Spock, slipped on some of the floor spill, and fell back onto the table. He caught himself, but not before upsetting another half dozen beakers. There was a crackling explosion and more smoke. Someone was laughing. The fire alarm kicked on and they were all promptly doused in water.

A girl shrieked. "My _hair_!"

Bravely, Timid-Girl from the wash station thrust her bucket full of water on Spock anyway, soaking him all of the way through. Jim righted himself and stood panting, trying not to laugh at the look of utter distaste on his partner's face and failing.

"We should probably get away from the toxic deadly chemical spill, Spock, man," he said between giggles. Water sprinkled down on his face, and he felt delighted.

Still glaring at him, Spock stood and stepped away from the table. The entire front of his jeans were faded out from the acid, looking kind of frayed, but it had not burned clean through. In Jim's opinion, he should have taken the pants off anyway.

The water stopped now and a misty, smoky smell hung in the air, damp and kind of sweaty. Everyone was glowering at James Tiberius Kirk.

When the Professor returned, it was no surprise that Jim and Spock were both in Very Serious Trouble.

"That was an adventure," said Jim pleasantly as they sat in the waiting room of the nurse's office. He swung his feet a little, humming a tune. He was there with Spock because, when he fell, he had cut himself on some of the broken glass. Some of the acid had agitated his cut as well, making it stingy and itchy and overall just rather uncomfortable.

Spock had gotten acid on his face and hands. It was worst on the knuckles of his left hand, but when Jim had tried to look at it, Spock had wrenched his hand free so abruptly that Jim had felt quite reprimanded and had not tried it again.

Presently, his ex-lab partner glanced at him and cocked an eyebrow. He looked much calmer now, though still subtly pissed. His hair was still damp and clung to his high (gorgeous) cheekbones.

Deciding to be a bigger man, Jim heaved a sigh and patted Spock on the arm. Spock stiffened. "Look, I'm sorry about your hand, man."

"It is negligible."

"I know, but it still couldn't have been fun."

"It would be more logical for you to be concerned about your grade. We will not be receiving credit for this assignment."

"If you'd have just introduced yourself properly, none of this would have happened," Jim said stubbornly, forgetting his immediate task of getting back on Spock's good side.

To his complete surprise, the tiniest of smiles appeared on Spock's lips. He inclined his head slightly, as if to mask it, and his eyes seemed to light suddenly from within, changing from that depthless black to a warm, sweeter chocolate color. Jim, fascinated, tilted his head slightly, and grinned in response.

"Well, look at that. I got the Vulcan to smile."

As quickly as it had come, the expression was gone. Spock stared at him hard for a moment, cold, before he turned that empty gaze straight ahead at the blank white wall in front of them. And they waited.

They didn't talk again for a good long while after that. They didn't need to.

**-- fin**


End file.
